Don't Leave Me Again
by Gmariam
Summary: Jack Harkness is about to destroy the aliens who took so much from him back on Earth. He is also about to learn that the end is indeed where one starts from, for this ending is an unexpected beginning as well. Written for the fifth anniversary of the death of Ianto Jones—and not my usual fare, I suspect.


Don't Leave Me Again

Jack Harkness stands on the bridge of his ship, hands gripped tightly before him as he stares at the view screen and counts down the minutes until they arrive at their destination. The journey he started decades ago is at last coming to an end, yet he is not sure how he feels about what they are going to finish. On one hand, he will have the justice and revenge that has driven him for so long; on the other, it will bring no one back, only leave him alone and with no purpose.

He cannot stop the feral grin that spreads across his face, however, when his crew expertly drops the ship from hyperspace, engaging the cloaking shield within milliseconds just as they had practiced, as Jack had drilled them mercilessly over and over. The impossibly large ship before them does not know that they are there, with their weapons already trained on the most critical points of the alien craft, set to destroy it as soon as Jack gives the order.

"Are you sure about this, Jack?" asks the Doctor, coming up quietly behind him, hands behind his back. Jack turns toward man he has always admired, always listened to and learned from. But in this, he will not be swayed; the Doctor may be a pacifist, but Jack is not. He never has been and never will be, not when the universe continues to take and destroy what he loves. And he is not doing this for himself, but for Earth. For the eleven children he once sacrificed to save the planet, for the man who escaped that terrible fate only to die a painful death after a miserable life. For the innocent lives lost at Thames House, the innocent child who was sacrificed in order that no one else would suffer.

And for the man whom Jack had loved but never _let_ himself love, the man who had given his heart, his loyalty, and his life to Jack, only to die in his arms because of Jack's past, Jack's arrogance, Jack's mistake.

He is sure. This is for Earth, for Clem MacDonald, for Stephen Carter, for Ianto Jones. And it is for every other living creature in the galaxy that will no longer be threatened by the sadistic actions of a three-headed alien menace addicted to the chemical highs it stole from innocent children. It not so different from the Doctor's never-ending battle against the Daleks and their drive to exterminate all iving creatures, only this is Jack's fight, and he will see it end once and for all.

Jack nods to the Doctor, who steps back with a frown. He knows he will not change Jack's mind. He has already tried, but Jack is determined to see this through. He has pursued this for far too long to stop now and will only rest when the ship before him—the last of its kind, as they have destroyed all the rest—is blown from the sky. A raised hand is the only sign Jack needs to signal his crew to proceed. It is time to end this. The Doctor leaves the bridge, grey hair a blur as he refuses to witness the cold-blooded destruction of a species that cannot be allowed to survive.

Jack's people are the best, he has made sure of that, and they move like a well-oiled machine as they execute the plan that has been months in the making. Critical points are hit first; the alien ship tries to retaliate, but Jack's crew has already begun evasive maneuvers in their much smaller and more agile craft. They begin to take out the secondary systems, pounding the alien ship relentlessly. All too soon the ship before them is a derelict hull drifting in space, and Jack nods in grim satisfaction, though he is not finished yet.

"Suit up," he tells them. "We'll finish it over there."

Within minutes he is on board the disabled ship, searching through the darkened corridors with torches on high. Jack is determined to rescue any captives, but to their surprise, there are none. They do not encounter a single human being, child or adult, until they reach the bridge. There are, however, dead aliens scattered about the corridors, and it is clear that they were not killed in the attack. They were shot point blank, and the ship is coated in red blood and the viscous green fluid Jack remembers all too well from Thames House.

When they burst onto the bridge to complete their mission, Jack and his six team members stop dead in their tracks. The bridge is a charnel house, a graveyard of blood and gore. Two lone figures stand in the middle, white environmental suits dripping red, but clearly human. Jack feels a shiver go through him, a thrill of fear. Have they destroyed one enemy to encounter another? Or is the enemy of their enemy their friend?

The shorter figure turns and takes a step closer, but Jack moves back, fear joined by apprehension and caution. Something is not right about the situation.

"Who are you?" asks Jack, his voice wary but direct through the microphone of his environmental suit. "What are you doing here?"

"We're helping." The voice that answers is surprisingly feminine.

"We don't need your help," Jack responds.

"But we appreciate yours," says the woman. "Your attack gave us the perfect opportunity to take them down from the inside."

"And how did you get inside?" Jack asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is not an easy species to infiltrate."

"Not if you know them—know how they work, what they need."

"They need kids," Jack snaps. He pushes his way past the woman, registering curly hair, sharp eyes, and a smirk through the clear shield of her protective helmet. "And that's why we're going to blow this ship to hell. It's the last one."

"You've done well," the woman murmurs.

"I've worked hard," Jack replies. He is standing next to the second, taller figure, who is working quickly and confidently at the main console. Jack's senses are tingling, but he ignores whatever his subconscious is trying to tell him. "Which is why I'm not letting you get in the way. I've sacrificed too much to give up now."

"No worries, sir," says a deep voice from beside him. Jack freezes, his heart in his throat. "I'm almost finished here."

"What?" he whispers, turning toward the man next to him but stepping away in shock.

"I do try my best," the voice continues. The suited figure does not look at Jack, but continues to work furiously at the console before them, setting the ship to self-destruct just as Jack had been planning to do. Though it is hard to know for sure, Jack imagines long, lean fingers within the bulky gloves, wrists encircled by crisp white shirtsleeves held together with silver cufflinks…

"No," he gasps, trying not to stumble backwards and away. "No, no, no…"

The figure finally stops and glances up, meeting Jack's eyes. Blue meets blue, and the Welsh accent that Jack still hears in his sleep speaks with a sad lilt coloring its dulcet tones.

"Hello, Jack."

Jack is speechless, shaking his head as he holds back tears. The man before him nods in sad understanding and lays a gloved hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Together?" he asks, inclining his head toward the ship's console. Jack can only nod in response as the man takes his hand and reaches toward the final button in the self-destruct sequence. They exchange one more look before pressing it together; the computer immediately begins the countdown to annihilation.

"Let's go, Jack," the man says, taking his arm. "Ten minutes and counting." Jack is not used to being so stunned, to being lead around and out of control. Yet he follows this man without question, would follow him to the end of the universe just as he once followed the Doctor. And so he runs, returning to his ship where they watch the destruction of the alien craft from the safety of the bridge, with the man standing by his side just as he had so long ago when they had faced the monsters together.

Nearby, the Doctor is having a reunion with the curly-haired woman, but as the 456 explode into oblivion on the view screen before them, Jack has eyes only for the man who came with her, the man he thought he had lost decades ago. The man he has kept close to his heart for decades, driven by guilt and vengeance to make amends, to move past what had happened that terrible day in July, in Cardiff, on the planet he had left behind.

It is over now, but it does not bring the overwhelming sense of completion and relief that Jack has hoped and prayed for. Instead, he is scared and confused. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he have expected to find this man of all those he has loved and lost on board the enemy ship, fighting the fight that Jack had been desperately trying to finish. He wants to ask how, and why, and when, and a hundred other questions, but as the crew cheers around them, Jack can only reach out tentatively and run a cautious finger down the man's rough cheek. There is a scar there that he remembers all to well.

"Is it really you?" he asks, the need to be certain stronger than anything. The man nods, offering a heartrending smile as his hand comes up to caress Jack's face as well.

"It's me, Jack."

Jack's fingers continue to travel along the man's lips and jaw, until the man takes Jack's face, pulls him close, and whispers again.

"I'm really here."

And Jack gives in, crushing their lips together, the feeling of the man whom he thought he had lost pressed against him filling him with love and lust and more than anything…hope. Hope that the universe had for once in his long life seen fit to grace him with another chance, hope that he would not lose that opportunity too soon, hope that he could perhaps just once live his happily ever after now that he had saved the universe again, with this man at his side.

"I love you," he whispers. "Don't leave me again."

"I won't," Ianto replies. "I promise."

And Jack will hold him to that promise, because he cannot and will not lose Ianto Jones ever again.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ianto Jones died five years ago on this day, July 9th, 2009. Today I was struck with the very strong vision of Jack fighting the good fight, only to have this man turn around and say "Hello, Jack," in that Welsh accent. I am completely convinced that the right story could bring both him and Jack back to Doctor Who and possibly another season of Torchwood. This is my attempt at the rough beginning of that story. I do hope you enjoy it—ambiguity and all.


End file.
